


8:05

by thekingslover



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accident, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, hurt!Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4207020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingslover/pseuds/thekingslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor waits on the gray couch of his and Oliver’s apartment. He sits tall with his back straight, hands curled into fists on his knees.</p><p>The clock next to the tv reads 8:05. Oliver should have been home two hours ago.</p><p>Something is wrong. Connor knows it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	8:05

Connor waits on the gray couch of his and Oliver’s apartment. He sits tall with his back straight, hands curled into fists on his knees. 

The clock next to the tv reads 8:05. Oliver should have been home two hours ago.

Something is wrong. Connor knows it. He can feel it in his bones.

Oliver hasn’t called and he won’t pick up when Connor does. Connor would leave but he’s afraid if he does, Oliver will show up here and need him. Maybe he just lost his phone. Maybe everything’s fine.

But nothing feels fine. Connor sits on pins and needles. He stands and paces into the next room. The photo of the two of them at Christmas sits framed on the mantle in the bedroom. Another beside it, a candid of Oliver - too close and blurry - taken on their last trip together to the beach. Oliver had been all smiles that day. Connor maxed out the memory on his camera.

He doesn’t remember printing out the picture, though he meant to. He had it saved as the background on his computer instead. He must have though, for it to be here. Maybe Oliver did it as a surprise.

Connor’s fingers twitch. His stomach flips over in worry. If Oliver doesn’t call soon, Connor’s going looking for him, to hell with waiting. 

He’ll give him another five minutes.

Connor walks back into the living room and checks the clock by the tv. 

8:05.

He goes into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water. His hands shake and he spills some on the floor. Cursing, he grabs a towel, drops to his knees and wipes it up.

“Pull it together, Con,” he tells himself. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

A tiny voice in the back of his head whispers, _Wake up_.

“Hold it together,” he says. He places the towel in the sink and reaches for his water. It’s not there. He had poured it right?

It doesn’t matter, anyway. All that matters is Oliver. It’s definitely been long enough now.

Connor stalks into the living room and looks at the clock.

8:05.

No way. Connor grabs his phone. The screen reads 8:05. He pushes in his password. 3 missed calls. 

He hadn’t heard his phone ring.

“I’m running late,” Connor said earlier.

“You’re always running late,” Oliver replied.

Connor gripped his steering wheel hard. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You always say that, too.”

Connor shakes his head and he’s back in their apartment. This isn’t right. Oliver’s the one running late.

_Connor. Wake up._

“Maybe I do,” Connor argued, back in the car, racing home. He had flowers in the backseat - daisies. Oliver loved daisies. “But I always make good on it, too.”

They fought a lot lately. Connor’s work demanded all of his time. Oliver wanted to adopt. Connor did, too, but when would they have time? Connor couldn’t bail out at work right now. It was too important.

“Don’t act like you’ve been working harder because you have to,” Oliver’s voice was hard through the phone, filled to the brim with sadness - disappointment. “You’re running.”

“I’m _not_ running.”

"If you don’t want to have kids, why won’t you just say so? We’re partners in this. I’ll understand.”

Connor blinks and he’s in the apartment. The clock beside the tv still reads 8:05. Or maybe it’s the clock on the dash.

“I want kids, Oliver. I want kids with you.” _But I’m afraid I’ll be the man my father was. I’m afraid I’ll hurt them - hurt you._

Words go unspoken, buried in the crash of glass and the scrap of metal.

_Though I know that’s unfair._

Connor’s phone falls from his hand when his SUV flips onto its side. His seatbelt holds. The airbag deploys.

_I’m not my father._

Connor hits his head on the doorframe.

__I would never leave my family like my father did._  
_

Connor stands alone in the living room of their apartment. The clock by the tv reads 8:05.

As clear as if he’d been standing beside him, Connor hears Oliver’s voice.

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

“Oliver?” Connor cries out. He runs into the bedroom. The pictures are face down. Heart pumping fast, Connor flies from there and into the kitchen. There’s water all over the floor. “ _Oliver?_ ”

 _I won’t leave you_.

Connor slips and falls backwards. His head hits the counter on his way down.

In the dark, he hears the steady beep of a machine and a worried voice in his ear. “Wake up, Connor. Please.”

Oliver’s hands are warm on one of his - though a touch too tight. His head hurts. He’s thirsty. And when he blinks open one eye, the overhead light is blinding. He winces.

"Connor?”

Connor turns his head on the pillow, toward the voice. He waits a moment, afraid of the bright light, then slowly opens one eyelid, having some trouble lifting the other. The whole half side of his face feels tight.

“Connor. Thank _God_.” Oliver’s crying. Connor tries to lift a hand to wipe away the tears - Oliver should _never_ cry - but one hand is bandaged and the other is trapped in Oliver’s. That grip has only tightened now. Oliver’s not letting go.

Connor tries to smile. It hurts, but for Oliver, he manages. “Sorry I’m late.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr coliver sideblog 'monicashipscoliver.' Thanks for reading!!! :D The prompt was "You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you." from [this meme](http://monicashipscoliver.tumblr.com/post/112654109571/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you).


End file.
